


Alive and Alright

by ItsJaya



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Violence, Psychological Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, dickbabs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 15:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJaya/pseuds/ItsJaya
Summary: After being shot, Barbara Gordon knows she'll never be the same.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon & Jim Gordon, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Alive and Alright

Barbara Gordon is young and she _flies_. She _soars_ through the sky, arms out, not letting anyone hold her back. Batman giving her direct orders to back off? Robin, grasping her hands his fearful eyes hidden behind his mask, pleading that she stay behind- that this time it’s _too_ dangerous? She will _never_, she answers, back off without a fight. Batman _and_ Robin be damned. No one can control her. 

These villains better fear, she tells herself, touching the velvet bat imprinted on her uniform. She will not hold back. She will not be stopped. She will be respected as Bat Girl. She will help. She will make a difference. She will-

.

.

.

She is shot and she is stopped.

.

.

.

Sometimes, Barbara forgets that her father has a job. He stays by her side as long as he can while she remains in her hospital bed. She is thankful. Her father holds her hand sometimes. Sometimes he threads his fingers through her hair, whispering that it’ll be alright. 

It won’t, she thinks as  _ his _ laugh echoes and her whatever skin she can feel from her body goes cold and clammy. It won’t ever be the same.

.

Batman- no, Bruce Wayne comes to her as often as he can. When her father is not around, Bruce is there. She can see he blames himself- see it in his eyes as he approaches her bedside every night hesitantly. Sees it when he tells her he will do whatever he can for her. Here is her mentor. Someone that she, as much as she hates to admit, craved approval from. Here is the man who refused to respect her for so long, resting a hand over her own hand and uttering a short, simple and sincere apology.

Sometimes she is angry. _So_ angry, she refuses to look at him, refuses to see the way his jaw is tight, refuse to, refuses to, refuses to-

How dare he show up here, seeing her in such a state? How dare he blame himself? How dare he not see Joker cackling in the corner of the room? How dare he not call Dick and tell him to come home? 

She wants to ask Dick where he is- how dare he of all people not show up? Maybe they left things off at a rocky point, and hey, she gets it that he’s busy with his new team, but not even a call? Tell him to come, she wants to snarl but...

She doesn’t want him to see her this way, she thinks as Bruce helps her sit up. Rests a comforting hand on her shoulder and tells her about how patrol has been going lately. Tells her about his current Robin. Tells her about how her father is really doing. Tells her that it’s going to be alright.

“Oh it’s not, sweetheart,” Joker whispers into her ears.

.

.

.

Dick Grayson shows up a few days before she is released and boy, is she _glad_ he didn’t come before. He sees her and suddenly she’s too heavy. A dam breaks, and they are a mess, sobbing into one another’s arms. She thinks she broke him. She thinks she’s broken. 

Her father walks in through the door but leaves almost immediately when he sees him. He knows she’s been waiting for this. Torturing herself over his absence. But he’s here now, she tells herself when Dick calms down, sits by her side and strokes the top of her hand. That’s all that matters, right? 

“How’ve you been?” she asks, trying to start up a conversation that won’t involve any more tears.

“Good,” he chokes out. “If you need anything, please let me know.”

“I will,” she lies, and he knows she’s lying. 

“It’ll be alright,” he tells her, and she suddenly wants him _out_ of the room.

.

.

.

She returns home, her situation fully crashing into her. She feels like she fell straight into glass from the tallest tower. She can’t feel her anything. Her limbs are useless. It hurts to utter a word. She is _bleeding_. She’s sure of it.

She finally manages to request her father to roll her to her room. It smells stale. There’s probably moldy food decomposing under her bed. He straightens her sheets, sprays a bit of air freshener around. He opens her closet and pulls out a pair of pajamas. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he tells her, bending down so that they can be at eye level.

She feels insulted by his action, but she can’t bring herself to demand him to stand and repeat the same sentence. To treat her normally. “I’ll be fine,” she chooses to say. She wants him to hug her, but he nods, sighing tiredly and leaving. He shuts the door and she is startled to see herself. Damn her bloody mirror.

She wants to look away. Her entire body is alive, each and every part of her screaming to look away. She can’t. Oh, but how the  _ mighty _ have fallen. 

And there  _ he _ is behind her. The very cause of this all, smiling at her maliciously after he licks his lips. He dances his way towards her, cold clammy hands against her neck. “Need some help?” he asks. “Those PJs look so warm, I almost want to wear them myself!” Her mouth won’t move. The words are stuck. She is choking. 

She’s wearing her yellow shirt again and the buttons are coming off. She’s on the floor, asking why he’s doing it. There’s a flash and there are pictures being taken. 

She is frozen in time. She is stuck in that room, with  _ him _ all over her and there’s no going back.

.

She wakes up to the smell of urine. She groans softly and closes her eyes again. An issue to be dealt with later. 

.

She thinks she sleeps all day. Sometimes all week. Sometimes all month. Time passes and she doesn’t know what day it is. She doesn’t know why she bothers. She’s melting into her covers, and quite frankly, she likes it this way.

She thinks she’s becoming nothing.

.

She dreams of _swinging_ and _flying_ and Robin and her _playing_ tag throughout Gotham. There’s not a single rooftop they haven’t claimed their own. Not a single rooftop he hasn’t held her hand on. Not a single one they’ve left without _flirting_ or _sparring_ or, or-

And she dreams of Joker, but it’s not odd or scary. She lives with Joker now, she tells Bruce once. He is startled. She can tell. “You shouldn’t be left here alone,” Bruce tells her, setting down a box of pastries on her nightstand. 

“It’s fine. He goes away,” she responds. 

“It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all.” And yes, Bruce understands, she thinks. She’s not okay.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry I don’t come by more often,” Dick tells her, setting a bouquet of roses where Bruce’s pastries had been no more than a week ago. They are beautiful, she thinks. They are red. They are Joker’s lips. She looks away. “I’ll try harder,” he promises.

“I heard about your engagement,” she says and his frown deepens. “I’m sorry, Dick. I really am.”

“I’m fine,” he tells her, sitting by her side and grasping onto her hands.

I’m not, she thinks.

He starts staying at her apartment on the weekends. He sleeps on the couch. She won’t dare invite him into her room. She still cannot control her bladder. He is only allowed in her room at night, before bed. She spends most of her time with him in the living room. It’s odd how sometimes they’ll talk with each other as if nothing ever happened before. They’ll put on a show to watch and he’ll munch on the cereals she’s requested her father to stock up on as she sips on the juices he’s been bringing. The shows will disappear into the background as he tells her stories about his team. He’ll discuss cases with her, and she’ll feel more alive than ever. He’ll tell her about jokes that she’s sure Wally came up with. 

Sometimes he’ll look at her and she can see that he sees Bat Girl _racing_ with him, not Barbara sitting on the wheel chair, nails sinking into flesh she can’t feel under the blanket. 

Sometimes, they can’t talk about anything.

Sometimes, Joker is next to him, arms around one another as if they’re best friends. 

Sometimes, she is disgusted by how nice Dick is. How he’ll comb her hair back. How he’ll serve her a bowl of cereal every morning. How he buys her lunch and dinner, even though he knows she won’t eat much at all for either meals. He takes her for physical therapy. He pleads for the first six months for her not to lose hope. That there’s a chance she’ll be up and walking soon.

Sometimes, she _loves him_, even though she knows he loves Bat Girl.

.

.

.

She doesn’t understand why Bruce consults her about different cases. “The lead seems-”

“Sketchy,” she interrupts. “Don’t risk it.” She wants to cut off this conversation soon. Her father should be coming soon. She can almost hear him nod. “Let me know how this goes.”

“I will,” and she loves the way Joker’s face twists into disgust as she says good-bye and she smiles as Bruce responds that he’ll talk to her soon. “You have taken nothing from me,” she addresses Joker, eyes shining. She thinks she’s gotten to him at last, but after a moment his lips twist into a smile and he waltzes his way closer and closer, till his hands are gripping her arm rests and he leans closer and closer, his breath freezing her ears. He hisses an “oh, _really_?” before he disappears. 

.

.

.

She misses helping people more than anything. More than even being able to fly. She misses holding onto a victims hands and being the one to ensure that everything would be fine.

Now she needs help. Now she needs to be assured. It makes her feel worse. It makes her want to scream till her throat is shredded. It makes Joker laugh a bit louder.

It makes her want to try harder. “What are you looking at?” Dick asks her one day as he balances upside down on her couch. 

“Helping Bruce hack into this system,” she responds. She can hear him land behind her. She can feel his disapproval.

“Oh?” And she ‘hmms’ her response. “After you’re done want to watch a movie?”

“Maybe,” she replies, “I kind of wanted to check something out.”

“Babs,” she stops typing and turns to look at him. He’s worried. This is the same look he’d give Bat Girl before she’d turn away haughtily and jump into a battle. “I don’t want to sound like-”

“It’s okay, Dick,” she reaches out for his hand and he bends down in front of her. “I’m better now.”

“You don’t have to do this, Babs,” he says, and no, she doesn’t. She’s thought about it before. What life will be like if she leaves behind her vigilante life completely- if she acts as if it wasn’t there before. “I swear, it won’t make you any different in our eyes.”

“That’s not the point, Dick,” and she’s kind of lying and they both know it. “I just want to find a way to help again.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“I’ve been thinking of names, you know,” and she watches as his eyes widen slightly, panic suddenly engulfing his features. “It’s okay, Dick.” He embraces her suddenly, his right hand tangling into her unkempt hair and his left bringing her as close as possible. “I need it,” she tells him. Is he trembling or is that her? Is that Joker coming into view or is that Bat Girl? 

He doesn’t answer her after. He just holds her so close. Joker is taking a picture of us, she wants to say, but then Dick won’t ever leave her alone. 

His visits become less frequent, and she’s sure he’s telling Bruce to talk her out of it. Bruce doesn’t bring it up. Bruce knows, she thinks. He’s dealt with trauma by becoming Batman. Why can’t she deal with her trauma by becoming someone else- someone useful? Someone who helps? Someone who won’t sob her mornings away and wallow in self pity all afternoon and in the evening, pretend to be Bat Girl once more as she and Robin play with each other’s feelings? 

She comes up with Oracle and she is born again. No one will ever understand how important Oracle is to her. She is not restricted to being the former Bat Girl anymore. She is given a purpose. She wakes up every morning and rolls pass Joker and looks at her reflection and smiles.

In the afternoon, she taps away at her keyboard, preparing cases, looking into suspects. 

In the evening, she is Oracle. 

Barbara Gordon _is_ fine, she says aloud. Barbara Gordon _will_ make it.

**Author's Note:**

> Why aren't there more Oracle fanfics?


End file.
